


Dance With Me

by Thatfaeismybae



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatfaeismybae/pseuds/Thatfaeismybae
Summary: One-shot. During her trials Under the Mountain, Feyre has been desperately trying to ignore her feelings for Rhysand. She should hate him for his treatment of her, his manipulations of Tamlin, and forcing her into that godforsaken bargain. But when he appears in her cell one night, to teach her to dance of all things...How long can she deny the flames of desire?
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers. This is my first fanfic ever, so I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing it and plan to update with a few more chapters.

Chapter One

I lay on the stinking straw cot of my cell. On either side of me, my fingers lay against the cool stone floor, a welcome reprieve from the feverish heat of my body.

Another nightmare.

In the week since I had completed my first feat for Amarantha, I'd been plagued by dark dreams; sometimes of being devoured by the Middengard, its massive teeth sinking into my flesh, the blood leaving my body in great ruby rivulets. And sometimes times they were of a...different nature. Of a male figure bending the darkness around him and prowling towards my cot, perilously sharp talons caressing my mind. I sighed as I opened my eyes, wiping the sweat from my brow. Perhaps it wasn't the trauma I'd experienced causing the dreams. Perhaps it was instead the faerie wine a certain high lord had been forcing me to drink. Or the dehydration I subsequently experienced the next day after my body heaved for hours attempting to rid me of the toxic substance. Either way, I had to admit it wasn't all bad to lose myself for an evening. Ignoring the shame of what Rhysand had made me do, the way he'd made me...dance for him, it was still a blessing to forget what I had done, what Amarantha would surely make me do, if only for an evening.

As if on cue, the darkness near the door began to bend and stretch. Rhysand.

“Why Feyre,” he purred, setting one foot perfectly in front of the other as he paced towards me. “You're looking positively feverish tonight. I thought I'd already healed your wound.”

“I'm not ill,” I spat at him harshly, “just sick and tired of your nightly games.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue, a glint of amusing shining in his violet eyes. “I'm afraid I'm here to disappoint you then, Feyre. I require your presence for another of my games.”

“What is it now?” I groaned, still looking up at him from my place on the ground. “Why, Feyre, if I didn't know better I'd say you weren't enjoying our nightly ritual.” Rhysand retorted, feigning hurt. I rose to my feet, glaring at him defiantly.

“You'd be right,” I said. Still smirking, Rhysand took two deliberate steps towards me, stopping arms-length away. I always forgot how much taller than me he was. He towered over me, like a wall of darkness and shadow. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, and the dampness faded from my skin. I once again felt as though I'd just bathed.

“Amarantha is so titillated by your recent victory that she's decided to throw a ball two nights from now. You, of course, will be my guest.” I grimaced. Though I was beginning to not hate losing myself to faerie wine, I had no desire to be paraded about once again as Rhysand's whore.

As if sensing what I was thinking, he continued, “You won't be dancing for me this time. You'll be dancing _with_ me.”

I snorted. “With you? Are you sure this isn't just another attempt to anger Tamlin?” A hint of annoyance rose at the edge of Rhysand's eyes, and his smirk thinned almost imperceptibly. He took another step towards me, forcing me to crane my head up that long male body to meet his gaze. He looked coolly down at me, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Does a man need such a reason to want to dance with a woman? After all, you're so good at it, Feyre, darling.”

The heat of anger prickled my throat. Darling? I most certainly was not and would never be Rhysand's _anything_ , let alone his darling.

I raised my chin pointedly at him, grinding my teeth. “I wouldn't know. I can't remember,” My voice was a whisper.

“Oh, don't worry, Feyre. You'll remember all of this. You and I will be dancing a waltz.” I blinked slowly. Rhysand answered the question forming on my face before I could ask. “The other Lords of Prythian are not used to the debauchery that makes up a typical night in Amarantha's court. Every now and then they expect a real ball. Something more befitting of their prudish sensibilities.”

I raised a brow. “Only the _other_ Lords? Of course, we all know you're a pig.”

Rhysand throw back his head and laughed loudly. I started at the sound. I didn't know the High Lord of the Night Court was capable of real laughter.

“Feyre, darling, you flatter me. Regardless of my comfort with debauchery, as Amarantha's whore, I am expected to attend all of her events. Even the dull ones.” Taking a small step back, he extended his long-fingered hand to me in an invitation. I raised a brow in question.

“I need to ensure that you can dance properly," he whispered.


End file.
